


First Impressions (Seventeen Variations)

by jackdawq



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Gen, overzealous tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackdawq/pseuds/jackdawq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It sucks to be the new transfer kid. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions (Seventeen Variations)

**1\. Yosuke Hanamura**

Poor guy, Yosuke thinks.

It sucks to be the new transfer kid. Seta might not have the secondary problem of being the Junes Heir or whatever hilarious name the usual idiots have made up this week, but he's still moving from a big city to a small town where everyone is everyone else's uncle or whatever. Yukiko Amagi only has to set one foot in the shopping district and half the shopkeepers start asking about her mother; on the rare occasion Yosuke goes there, he can barely get served in the general store. Inaba's small and stupid and he's stuck there, and now so's Seta. The new guys need to stick together - and at least Yosuke can show him the ropes.

Shame he looks so _boring_. The sort of kid you bump into outside of school and kind of recognize, except you can't even remember if he's even in your grade, much less his name. Unmemorable in every way - until he back-talks King Moron in front of the whole class and becomes about a million times more interesting.

"You get crushes so easily," Chie teases Yosuke a week later. He just rolls his eyes. Of course he talks about Souji sometimes; it's totally, one-hundred-percent normal to mention someone you're hanging out with. Especially when they need you. And Souji does – he's got a smart mouth but no friends, and _somebody's_ got to wake him up in math class before Nakayama-san flips her lid.

By November, things are different. It's Yosuke and Souji needing each other, then - when one of them's sobbing over Saki by the river, when the other's sitting in a stark hospital room watching Nanako's chest rise and fall. When Yosuke drags Taro Namatame across the floor and almost, _almost_ makes the biggest mistake of his life.

But for now, Seta's just the new kid. Somebody's got to look after him, right?

 

**2\. Ryotaro Dojima**

It's one of those old instant photos, back before all this digital crap came out and you suddenly had to spend ten minutes searching for a computer cable only to find out you'd hit the magic "Blur Everything" button before taking the shot. Which is what Mayako must've done with the picture of her son she emailed last week, because Souji looks like a big grey smudge. Ryotaro can barely make him out against the background.

The Polaroid - stuffed at the bottom drawer of the dresser for who knows how long - is much clearer. Unfortunately, Souji's no more than a year old, so it won't be much good for picking him out at the station. Hell, Ryotaro barely recognizes _himself_. Chisato would be…thirty-seven now, he thinks, which means she's around twenty-one in the photo - making him, what, twenty-six?

First time he'd ever met his nephew. Mayako had been working up near Sapporo at the time, which explains all the damn snow. He just remembers feeling grumpy and cold and wishing he had a smoke, and it shows through in the photo. But Chisato, she's holding Souji half-asleep in her arms and smiling down at him like he's the most precious thing in the world - just like she looked holding Nanako a decade later. She'd be over the moon that her nephew's coming to stay, Ryotaro thinks, and wishes for the same thing he's wished for every single day of the last three years. It feels like a lifetime ago. Sapporo feels like one more again, or two, or three. Sometimes he swears he's lived a half-dozen.

Ryotaro knows he's not the world's best father. A six year old shouldn't have to run a household or put herself to bed at night. So he won't criticize Mayako for putting her job first, and he owes her enough favors that he won't begrudge her sending Souji to him. He just isn't certain she understands just how short time is, and that there's never as much of it as you want or expect.

 

**3\. Chie Satonaka**

The first day they meet, Chie isn't impressed. Particularly not when they're walking home. Souji does a lot of looking at Yukiko - and Chie shouldn't be surprised, that's what _always_ happens, but it still twists her stomach up.

See, people like labels. Chie Satonaka, invincible kung-fu heroine. Kicker of Yosuke Hanamura, biggest smartass in the universe. Toughest fighter at Yasogami High. Protector of Yukiko Amagi, demure princess and more of a real girl than Chie's ever going to be.

(It just gets worse later, even after her and Yukiko hash out some of their problems. Yukiko was practically born a lady and if Chie swears that if she looked up 'girl' in the dictionary, there'd be a picture of Rise Kujikawa giggling and waving underneath. There's no way Chie can compete. Even _Naoto_ turns out to be a better girl, or at least better at cooking, which is just plain sad. When Chie says this to Yosuke - because he's there and he always teases her no matter what - he tells her that Rise's omelet stripped the skin off his tongue, that Yukiko's tasted like cardboard, and that Naoto probably just stuck to the cake recipe like glue. Chie rolls her eyes and tells him she doesn't need anyone to make her feel better. She doesn't tell him she's still glad he tried.)

Souji's not like Yosuke, at least not the first day they meet - except for the fact that he watches Yukiko most of the way along the floodplains while pretending he isn't looking at her. No different to the other guys at school. Chie tells herself she's being protective, that she just doesn’t want guys looking at Yukiko like that, but there's a sour part of her that wishes someone would pay attention to her too. Yukiko's Yukiko, though, beautiful and smart and set for life, and she's just plain old Chie. Souji's barely going to register her existence.

So, a couple of weeks after they first meet, she's a little surprised when he asks _her_ to share lunch with him. Grateful too, since it happens on the same day she tried to make her own lunch and ended up with something even she can't stomach. Unfortunately, when Souji hears this, he insists on trying her food. Something about maxed-out courage, he tells her, though he looks less courageous afterward and more nauseated.

"It's awful, right?" she asks him, with a laugh she doesn't quite mean.

Souji nods. "Yeah."

Souji says what he means. Chie likes that.

But what she likes better is what he says next: "I didn't expect much, though. Most girls I've known can't cook." Then he starts telling her about the tofu he tried to deep-fry last week which somehow turned into black lumps that even the fish wouldn't eat, and Chie figures he'll be okay after all.

 

**4\. Yukiko Amagi**

The terrible thing is that Yukiko really doesn't notice Souji at first. She's busy worrying about her mother and the inn and the barbarian horde of TV journalists ruining the tatami mats. Then she's busy looking at Chie, because everything with Chie's been wrong lately. She won't admit it later – she doesn't want to come across as rude – but she carries on not noticing him until the day she answers the knock at the inn's back door and wakes looking up into her own face.

Souji, Chie and Yosuke turn up what feels like only a few hours later. She watches horrified from her cage as her other self bursts into a fiery phoenix, but part of Yukiko is busy thinking, over and over, _they came for me_.

That night – two weeks on from when she first disappeared - she finds out from Chie that it was Souji's plan and Souji's leadership that led them through the maze-like castle. Chie herself was no doubt even more driven, and Yosuke too, but they _know_ Yukiko. She'd barely spoken to Souji and he still risked his life saving her. Yukiko just wishes she knew why. A sense of guilt eats away at her; they could've been killed, all of them, all because she'd let her emotions spiral out of control.

It takes an effort just to persuade Mother to let them all inside, but the next day they visit Yukiko at the inn. Chie fusses over her, Yosuke inexplicably asks twice for her phone number, and Souji just sits quietly at the living room's low table. There isn't time for her to ask her question until the three of them are on their way out the door.

She stands from the table. "Um – Souji?"

He turns back from the door. "Yeah?"

_Why did you do it_ , Yukiko wants to ask – but what comes out is, "I'm sorry."

Souji's smile is kind and bright. It might've faltered an instant, Yukiko thinks, but she can't be certain.

"It was kind of fun," he tells her. "Besides, we'd never leave you behind."

He stepped out the room earlier to take a phone call from his uncle. Yosuke spent the whole time babbling about how fantastic his new best friend was, until she couldn't decide whether he was serious or just playing it up to make her laugh. _Souji's awesome_ , he said, on three different occasions.

As Chie calls out to Souji to hurry up, Yukiko watches him leave the room and thinks: _maybe he is_

**5\. Teddie**

Teddie's logic makes perfect sense. Someone threw two people into his world. After that, some more people threw themselves in. They must be just as good at throwing other people too, which means he's the cleverest bear _ever_ and he just needs to make them stop. It doesn't make sense that they came back given he had to let them out the first time, but maybe they're just not very smart.

"For the last time," the floppy-haired one says, throwing up his hands, "it's not us!"

Except it totally, one-hundred-percent is!

...Maybe.

It all makes sense in Teddie's head: these guys throw people in, the fog lifts, then the Shadows kill. But looking at them, he's a little less confident. The floppy-haired one looks too gawky to throw anyone anywhere, and the grey one looks – Teddie isn't sure of the exact word. Nice, familiar, safe. There's something about him that feels like coming home, even though Teddie's already supposed to be there.

"I-I'm just saying, you might be the culprits," he protests half-heartedly. "I'm just making sure!"

Floppy-hair – Yosuke, wasn't it? - doesn't take well to that. He snaps something about _Teddie_ being suspicious (of all people!) and yanks off Teddie's head. It takes a while for Teddie to find it again, then a little bit longer (and some light blackmail) for all three of them to agree on what needs to be done. They head to the place where the last person got thrown in – where the Shadows are waiting.

Teddie's never been afraid of the Shadows, not really, but he's afraid for these two humans. They're the first he's ever talked to and they're going to die just like the other two did, only this time he's going to be watching. Yosuke's barely conscious on the ground, leaving Souji to face down two Halberies alone. Teddie fights the urge to turn and run, thinks he might not be able to stop himself, when the air behind Souji bursts into life.

Souji's holding out his hand, a glowing card in his palm, and the thing behind him – Teddie doesn't know how to describe it. It looks like a Shadow, but without all the bad feelings he can usually sense. It thrusts its spear forward, spears one of the Halberies clean through, then twirls and slashes the other in half. The remains melt into black slime, just as Yosuke's waking up.

See, there's this voice inside Teddie. Not inside his suit, somewhere deeper. There was a time it wasn't there, he remembers, a time when he felt riddled with hollow spaces – and though he still feels that way, sometimes, the voice makes things easier.  When he looks again at Souji, now helping Yosuke to his feet, the voice rumbles in approval - and Teddie knows, right then, that Sensei's going to fix everything.

**6\. Daisuke Nagase**

Three days into the new school year, Daisuke bumps into Souji Seta in the corridor and nearly sends him flying into a display about volcanoes.

Kou elbows Daisuke in the ribs. Daisuke grunts and apologizes. Souji smiles and says, "No problem." And that's that, until Souji shows up at soccer practice the following Monday.

He says from the start that he doesn't know much about the game, which Daisuke figures is just modesty. _Everyone_ knows how to play soccer. Five minutes later, it's clear that 'everyone' excludes Souji. The guy _sucks_. Seriously, he's worse than Kou, and at least Kou knows how to aim - which Souji sure as hell doesn't when he makes his first shot at goal. The ball curves round in a wide arc, misses the posts by light years and almost smacks King Moron in the head. Which Daisuke's pretty happy about, actually, so he gives Souji a high-five while Moron yells something about damn city brats.

It would've been even better if Souji had actually hit the jerk, but that's asking a lot from someone who trips over the ball when he tries to pass it. And it doesn't change the fact that Daisuke's grandma - who needs glasses as thick as soda bottles just to find her front door - would make a better left winger. But it's enough to warrant buying Souji a beef bowl at Aiya after practice.

"I did warn you," Souji says with a shrug. "But I'll keep coming to practice until I hit Morooka."

Not a bad idea - but liable to get them all in a bunch of trouble, Daisuke adds through a mouthful of noodles, so maybe Souji should join the basketball team instead.

"Golf's more my sport," Souji tells him.

**7\. Sayoko Uehara**

It's flirting, that's all. Harmless. Like anyone else wouldn't do it. Sayoko's seen plenty of boys take on the hospital cleaning job and just as many leave it. Nobody ever sticks around, so why shouldn't she have a little fun? Souji Seta's the latest – and if there's something _different_ when she first sees him, something that makes her games ring hollow, Sayoko ignores it. He's out in the hallway, mopping the floor, when she calls him into a recently vacated room.

"I thought I should introduce myself to the latest evening worker," she says. "I'm Sayoko Uehara."

"Souji Seta," he replies, though she knows that from his paperwork.

She steps closer. "I heard you were a high schooler." Another step. "But not that you were so _cute_."

Seta says nothing.

Even a teenager should understand what she's getting at. Maybe he's dumber than she thought. Sayoko hopes not; it'll won't be any fun that way. "Don't worry." Her hand brushes over his shoulder. "No-one'll see."

Gaze steady and intense, he takes her hand and pushes it gently away. "I know why you're doing this."

Boys know nothing. That's why she does this. Sayoko curls her lips into a sneer. "Really? And how's that?"

"Because we've done this before," he tells her.

It makes no sense – this is the first time they've met – but it might be the truest thing she's ever heard. She swallows. "Wh-What do you mean?"

But Seta's expression has already cleared: now calm and even, almost nonchalant. "Nothing," he tells her with a smile. "I'll go back to cleaning now."

Sayoko watches him leave. She looks down at her clipboard, but her head is spinning and the words don't look like words. Seta didn't mean any of it, she reassures herself. He's just a stupid kid, a kid who couldn't even tell she was flirting.

...He'll get it next time.

**8\. Kanji Tatsumi**

Kanji's first thought on meeting Souji goes something like this: _OH CRAP OH CRAP THEY SAW IT A DUDE JUST HIT ON ME AND THEY SAW IT WAIT THE DUDE LEFT NOW I GOTTA CHASE THEM DOWN THAT ALLEY DAMMIT._   With a lot more cursing. But it's directed at all four of them, not just Souji, so Kanji decides it doesn't count as their first meeting. Ditto the next time, which is good, because nobody has a bathhouse inside their head unless there's something majorly wrong up there and he doesn't want Senpai thinking he's all weird.

So, if you ask Kanji, the _real_ first time comes at the start of June. He's still new to this Persona stuff and Take-Mikazuchi is being kind of a jerk, so Souji wants to go in the TV again to train. It's Sunday, so Kanji expects Souji to send out a text ordering everyone to Junes. Boss man and all. Meaning it's a surprise when Souji shows up at the textiles shop instead. The problem is that he arrives right when Kanji's arranging the new fabric display and trying to decide whether the red silk goes well with the purple.

Kanji almost throws the fabric across the room. "S-Senpai, I—shit, you came to get me?"

"Language, Kanji-chan," Ma says as she walks through the shop's back door.

Souji glances at Kanji then nods toward the display. "Did you do that?"

Kanji's first instinct is denial – but even though they barely know each other, something about Souji makes truth the only option. "Y-Yeah. S'right. Go ahead and laugh, okay? Ain't like you'd be the first."

Souji hums thoughtfully, eyes still on the display. "Looks good."

Anyone else, Kanji would think they were making fun, judging him just like everyone's done for years. Senpai's different.

Ma eyes Souji carefully. "You know Kanji-chan?"

And Kanji knows where this one is going: that Ma would never believe he had friends, that she thinks Souji's here to complain or something, and who'd blame her when—

A quick bow, and Souji nods again. "I do. He's a good guy."

After a moment's thought – as if studying Senpai, weighing him - Ma smiles. "Well, thank you for looking after him."

It's an embarrassing thing for her to say, but when Souji shoots Kanji a smile of his own, Kanji still can't help grinning back.

**9\. Taro Namatame**

The relationship didn't last long. Three months of stolen phone calls and hiding away in hotels, of hating himself for lying to one woman but loving another too much to stop – right up until the moment Mayumi's body was found draped over a television antenna, high among the wires.

Three months shouldn't be enough to break someone. Taro was married to Misuzu for seven years. He grieved over the divorce, but nothing like he still grieves for Mayumi. Those three months were time enough for her to work her way into his mind, for him to wrap himself up in her thoughts and feelings – until her death ripped it all out of him and left empty spaces Taro no longer knows how to fill. Saving people doesn't fix that, but it helps, at least a little. It means, he tells himself, that Mayumi's death wasn't meaningless and arbitrary.

(It was, and deep down Taro knows that – but as he falls into his role as savior, the lie becomes easier to believe.)

But for now, it's only June. He's saved two people so far: the smiling girl in the kimono, and the hulking delinquent who Taro was barely able to heave through the screen. Both of them showed up in town a week later, unharmed. His plan's _working_. He stays up late each night to check the channel, even when it isn't raining, just in case someone else appears, telling himself Mayumi would be proud. His family doesn't understand, and though they don't complain when Taro fails to show up for work at the delivery firm, he can tell his father is losing patience. If he could tell someone, it would be so much easier. The only person who knows is that detective he spoke to the first time he contacted the police, and he's probably already forgotten. Everyone forgets in this town, easily and carelessly.

Taro avoids people now. He spends his free time alone by the river where nobody bothers him – except for a boy with silver hair. The boy doesn't say anything, but Taro can tell he's watching. He must know Taro from either the television reports or local gossip; Inaba's a too-small town.

One day, instead of staring, the boy walks directly to the river and sits on a rock beside Taro. He shakes a small bag, and one of Inaba's stray cats trots out from a nearby bush. It's scrawny and probably flea-ridden, but as it eats the boy pets it all the same. The cat purrs happily and slinks toward Taro, winding around his legs.

"I think she likes you," the boy says.

Taro watches the ginger cat, unsure what to do. Then he looks at the boy. "Why are you here?"

"I don't have time to come here every day," he says. "I need someone to help feed her." He holds out the small bag of food toward Taro. "And I see you here all the time."

Taro takes the bag without thinking. He stares down at it in his hands. "I – I can't. I have other things to do, that I need to—"

"Yeah. I know." The boy stands from the rock and looks down at Taro. "I guess it doesn't matter. There are things we both have to do." Then he leaves, his footfalls heavy against the stone steps up from the river.

Taro looks down at the cat, hesitates, then reaches out a hand to stroke its back.

**10\. Ai Ebihara**

Soccer's stupid. Daisuke's stupider. Kou's cute but still stupid, and it isn't the basketball team they're making her coach. It was the career counselor's dumb idea for Ai to make up class credit by watching a bunch of sweaty guys kicking a ball around in the first place – guys who are all too happy to see her the first time she shows up for practice.

Boys look at her. Ai spent half her life wanting that to happen and she's finally mastered it. But as Kondo-san introduces her to the soccer team, Souji Seta looks at her differently - and she wants to tell him that's _not_ how it works, that there's only one way things go between girls and boys. She's put years of work into this, so Seta better damn well look at her the way he's supposed to.

(…Unless he isn't into girls. Ai later briefly thinks that might be true, after he spends three hours shopping with her and doesn't complain once.)

She skips the rest of that day's practice, of course, and the next one, and the one after that, but she always shows up at the end, just before Kondo comes back to check she hasn't bolted. Daisuke and Kou are there every time - and so's Souji, hovering around after each practice like some sort of helpful, ball-polishing pixie.

Four weeks in, he speaks to her for the first time. "Want to go to Okina?" he asks, which is forward enough to shock even her.

Nobody at Yasogami is good enough for Ai. Nobody – so she can't explain why she shrugs and says, "If you want, I guess."

"Great. Stay for the next practice and we'll head out afterward."

...Figures. Any other girl would be disappointed - but that was the old Ai, everything she isn't, and so she rolls her eyes. "Like I'm interested in _soccer_."

Souji tilts his head and asks, "How about graduating?"

Ai sneers, tosses her hair, and swallows the urge to throw a soccer ball at him.

                                                                                                                                               

**11\. Mitsuo Kubo**

Mitsuo's the hero of this story. The problem is, nobody else realizes it.  
  
He's the hero of a dozen more besides, all of them carefully tucked in the boxes on the shelves of his room: splashes of colour against black and white newspaper clippings. All the new games are stupid and boring, so the row of boxes stays the same, but the newspapers - they’re just fascinating.  
  
Dragons, wizards, evil tyrants - no matter what the battle, the hero always wins, his deeds on the lips of every NPC in every town. Try hard enough and Mitsuo can pretend they’re talking about him - _thank you for saving us, brave CHARNAME!_ \- but after a while, it feels hollow. He needs _real_ monsters to kill. Inaba has plenty, but not the sort he knows how to fight. They have bad suits and worse teeth and get him thrown out of Yasogami High for just trying to be somebody - somebody who gets the girls, who makes the other kids sick with envy, who'll captivate everyone in this pathetic town. Somebody who might make his father come back. And if Inaba has tyrants, they’re all on the Yasogami school board, using words like _disturbed_ and _harassment_ and making his useless, pathetic mother beg them to let him stay.  
  
If Morooka had just let him talk to Yuki, Mitsuo knows she would’ve understood. Every hero needs a princess, and Yuki’s always been his, even if she doesn’t remember sitting in front of him back in junior school and smiling at him when he lent her a pencil and even once trying to _talk_ to him when he sat alone in the schoolyard at lunch. Mitsuo didn’t know what to say then. He would now, if he could just get her to listen. But he can’t - and it’s Seta’s fault.  
  
Seta - silver hair, pale skin, a greyscale study – shouldn't be a somebody. Yuki shouldn’t be sitting under the pagoda by the Samegawa with him right now, talking and giggling and acting like everything she isn’t. As far as Mitsuo can tell, Seta showed up in Inaba two months ago and had the entire town roll over at his feet. The old bastard running Aiya, that gossiping bitch in the general store, even the idiots from Mitsuo's class who work part-time at Junes - they all know Seta's name, and they _shouldn’t_. He’s _not_ the hero. But Mitsuo? It’s late June, newspaper cuttings paper the walls of his room, and he's going to be a somebody.  
  
At the pagoda, Yuki and Seta both stand from the bench. Yuki walks off in the opposite direction, toward the shopping district. She doesn't notice Mitsuo – but Seta does. He ambles across the grass to the footpath, hand raised to Mitsuo in greeting.

"Everything alright?" he says. He's smiling but there's something off in his posture, like he's coiled tight. Like Mitsuo makes him nervous.

The thought's intoxicating – and totally stupid. "Why would _you_ care?" Mitsuo spits.

Seta shrugs. "No reason. I just saw you watching and I thought maybe you'd like to talk."

There's too much Mitsuo wants to say and nobody to say it to. That's always been the problem – but he still scowls at Seta and says, "Not to you, asshole."

Seta's expression shifts suddenly, landing somewhere between anxiety and frustration. "Listen," he starts. "You don't have to—" Then he hesitates, and shakes his head. "Sorry. I wish things could be different."  
  
With that he leaves, walking past Mitsuo and along the footpath, hands shoved in his pockets. Mitsuo forces himself not to turn and watch. Seta must've had some hidden reason for starting a conversation to begin with: either a sense of pity, or some stupid bet he made with his Junes friend. Mitsuo isn't sure which idea is worse. He also isn't sure why snapping at Seta to go made his throat go tight, why he had the stupid, sudden sense that someone cared about him.

And in the end, none of it matters. Mitsuo's the hero of this story. He's slaying dragons, rescuing princesses, fighting his way to the top of the castle - and Seta, he's nothing at all.

**12\. Rise Kujikawa**

Rise is _so_ not at her best when Senpai first drops by the tofu shop. It's only two days since she arrived back in town, she's still really stressed out and the paparazzi keep trying to snap photos of her while she's elbow deep in bean curd. She kind of ignores him too, because she's convinced he's only there to gawk. His friend with the floppy hair is worse; plenty of guys have ogled her in the shop since her return, but rarely to the point where they forget what tofu is.

Anyway, they don't exactly get off to a good start. Souji's kind of cute, no question, but lately Rise's found it hard to care about that sort of thing. He just blends into the rest of the gawkers who keep coming by: a nameless throng of people she thinks she might remember from the last time she lived her, before Risette, before anyone ever really saw her.

Three years on, they still don't see her. There's only Risette. That's why, when Souji drops by the shop a second time, right before closing on a warm Saturday evening, Rise isn't very polite.

"Sorry," she mutters, without looking up. "We're about to close. I have to clean up."

"I'll wait," says Souji.

He's...different, on his own. She looks at him: hands in his pockets, bag slung over his shoulder, expression relaxed. "Why?"

"I'd like to talk to you." He tips his head toward the door. "Come to the shrine?"

The shrine's kind of scary at night. Heading there with a strange boy ought to be scary too, and Rise's learned not to trust people – but Souji seems honest. She hesitates, then sets the cleaning cloth aside. "...Okay."

After she locks up - and dodges the two diehard admirers still hanging around outside - they head through the district. Souji doesn't say anything on the way there, not _hey I'm a fan_ or _could you sign my CD_ or even _will you date me_. In turn, she isn't sure what to say either, and they walk on in silence until they arrive at the shrine, just as the sun is setting. Souji sits on the steps and she sits beside him.

Rise's always been good at figuring out what people want, and as Risette she learned how to be what they want too. Neither skill is helping her right now. Souji's difficult to read. Either there's nothing going on underneath, or there's way too much and he's just an amazing actor. She already has a feeling which one she believes.

He reaches into his bag, pulls out a sheet of paper – and, almost faster than Rise can track, folds it into a paper fish. Then he hands it to her.

"It's for freedom," he tells her, "and the strength to swim upstream."

Giving up Risette was supposed to break Rise free. Instead, she feels more walled in than ever. She looks down at the fish, then back at Souji. "I don't think I can do that." Her throat feels tight. "Not alone."

Souji smiles and gives her another blank sheet. "You won't be."

**13\. Naoto Shirogane**

For most of the summer, Naoto Shirogane considers Souji Seta an imbecile. This is not something he should take personally.

Unfortunately, she has no choice but to observe him and his friends in order to determine their true involvement with the case, and so a detective prodigy is reduced to trailing after a gang of schoolchildren who have an inexplicable fascination with the Junes food court. She initially loiters at the drinks stand near the store's sliding doors, but she can hear nothing of their conversation and the position is too conspicuous. On her next stakeout, she elects to situate herself at a table instead. She sits, takes off her hat (smoothing down her hair and straightening the collar of her shirt) and listens. At this distance, she can only pick out snatches of conversation, all of which indicate that Seta and his friends frequently discuss the murder case. Naoto already has her suspicions as to why. But her theories are difficult to reconcile with Seta, who appears to be the ringleader yet hardly seems a threat. He says little, and when he does he has a quiet and even manner of speech that she initially brands ridiculous. It lacks power and his vocabulary is distinctly deficient, at least in comparison to her own.

Give Naoto a word and she'll tell you its meaning. She'll also find a way to silence you with it. The only purposes to a wide vocabulary are earning respect and winning arguments, and the two are inextricably intertwined. This is a truth she learned at a young age and which becomes more vital still after Mitsuo Kubo's arrest. As the other detectives increasingly marginalize her – as the conversations-slash-skirmishes become more difficult day by day - her trips to the food court continue. She tries to sit closer to the group, reasoning that she will hear them better.

She does. She perceives more of what they say, now: friendly banter, gentle teasing, plans made for evenings and weekends. Sometimes, she catches herself contemplating what they do when they're not at the food court, and how they're spending their vacation together.

(Of course, whatever they're doing is certain to be a waste of time. Naoto tells herself this, yet the thoughts return regardless.)

One late summer day, she has something amounting to a tantrum and in turn a vicious argument with the head detective. She storms out of the station and immediately heads to Junes. Seta and his band of misfits (friends) are there as she expected (hoped) and she sits at a nearby table to eavesdrop. There's the usual chatter about nothing in particular, a few comments from Amagi and Kujikawa on how glad they are that Kubo is back in custody, some slight bickering between Satonaka and Hanamura. Then chairs scrape against the floor, and Naoto makes certain to duck her head and pay close attention to her case notes until she hears the group's voices vanish behind the sliding doors.

She looks up, preparing to leave – and sees Seta pulling out the chair opposite her.

"Hey," he says.

Naoto has spoken with him a few times before, but never alone – and never without holding the upper hand. "Seta-san. Is there something you need?"

"Not really." He leans back in the chair, posture relaxed. "You were late today."

The implication is obvious. Choking is the natural first response, but Naoto quickly regains her composure. "I – don't know what you mean."

He gestures towards her hat where it rests on the table. "If you'd been wearing this, the others would've figured it out too." Then he's looking back at her, his gaze softened. "Look, we can't tell you what you want to know, but you don't have to sit by yourself."

Her chest tightens. "I require information. Nothing else."

Seta hums thoughtfully. "Fair enough." He stands, turns to leave, but pauses halfway. "We can talk more when you join Yasogami."

Nobody here knows that she'll be attending Yasogami High this autumn. Naoto only found out from her grandfather two days ago. So how does Seta—

Guesswork. Nothing more. Naoto will conclude as much later, that Seta was simply lucky – but for now, dumbfounded, she watches him walk across the food court and back inside the store. She stays alone at the table for far longer.

**14\. Naoki Konishi**

Naoki hates Souji Seta before they even meet. Seta means Hanamura, which means Junes, which means – nothing. Not anymore. But Naoki hates Seta all the same, from the moment he spots him chatting and laughing with Hanamura by the lockers one May afternoon. They look like they're having fun, like they don't care. Naoki desperately wants to know how they do it.

It's late June before he and Seta actually speak, when Naoki makes a rare attempt at showing up for the Student Health Association meeting. When he walks through the door, most of the members look at him in a way that turns his stomach, a way that's become all too familiar. Then they're all dashing out of the room, mumbling excuses, leaving him and Seta alone. He's pretty sure Seta knows who he is, but it's for the wrong reasons, meaning he probably doesn't know Naoki's name.

"I'm Naoki Konishi," he says. "Saki's brother," he adds, because it's all anyone cares about now. Then, within moments, the conversation somehow turns to Hanamura, then to Naoki snapping out his hatred and quietly slinking out of the room. There's no time for Seta to respond, not until the next time they meet.

It happens by the lockers after the following week's Health Association meeting, by which time Naoki actually feels guilty. He still hates Seta, or maybe the idea of him, but he's always found it hard to be mean to anyone. Maybe Seta's the same, because when Naoki lends him a handkerchief to clean his sleeve (just a handkerchief, like it means anything else) he smiles and says, "Thanks."

"It was my sister's," Naoki blurts, just as Seta starts brushing the dirt off his shirt.

He knows what he's expecting, then. That same expression will creep over Seta's face, the one everyone wears ever since Saki died and left Naoki behind to deal with the rest. But Seta just pauses, one eyebrow raised. "Do you want it back?"

"N-No." Naoki swallows, hard. "Nobody uses it now anyway."

"Okay." And Seta goes back to cleaning his sleeve.

Seta, Naoki realizes, is either colossally insensitive or the only person actually able to talk with him. It's not like the latter would make it hurt any _less_ \- he isn't sure anything ever will - but he's tired of choking down other people's pity. When Seta lifts his head and holds out the handkerchief, he doesn't look sad and he doesn't look sympathetic - and in the end, Naoki thinks that's the best he can hope for.

**15\. Tohru Adachi**

The weird part is, Seta never talks to him. The first and second time they meet, he just lets Hanamura babble on instead: Hanamura, who stupidly laps up Tohru's 'accidental' slips of information and glances at Seta for approval like a desperate puppy. They both think they're in control, and that's what makes all of this even funnier.

Seta's strange, though, and in a way Tohru doesn't like. Almost everything about him is bland and boring – the grey smudge on the photo Tohru saw on Dojima's computer, two days before the kid showed up – but there's something else there, something in the way he looks at Tohru. Cold and hard, but knowing as well. Like Seta's plunged through the screen himself and found the ghosts Tohru hid behind it. Later, he figures out that Seta really _is_ going inside, over and over with his dipshit friends, rescuing whoever poor, desperate Taro Namatame – even the name makes Tohru crack up in recollection – throws in next. Whenever they meet Tohru along the way, Seta either has others speak for him or, if they're at Dojima's place, simply leaves the room. Dojima actually _apologizes_ for him once, which is a fucking riot. But each time, Seta looks like he's on the verge of saying something, like he's fighting to stay silent, and that only bothers Tohru more.

...Seta doesn't know anything. How could he? He's dumb enough to run around clearing up Namatame's messes, dumb enough to think a Risette nut and a misfit high school brat could both be responsible for the deaths of two selfish, stuck-up bitches who deserved every last thing they got. Tohru's tracks are covered, especially since Namatame got involved.

Tohru's a good liar. The problem with lying is that it becomes a habit. Convincing himself of Seta's stupidity is as easy as breathing, as easy as it was shoving that slut Yamano through the screen, and he goes on believing it even after Seta and his collection of idiots bring Namatame back. Then, on the night of Nanako's death, Tohru leaves them outside Namatame's open room, finds him alive and alone twenty minutes later - and finally begins to doubt. Still, there's a big difference between exonerating one man and accusing another, and so Tohru keeps his head down and keeps up the act.

Two days later, that bitch Shirogane confronts him in the hospital lobby.

Tohru isn't prepared at all – Seta again standing silent, eyes cold – and jumping in the TV is the best of a bad set of options. The world inside is worse and better than he ever imagined: a ruined and shadowed Inaba, crawling with creatures that seem to respond to his whims. It's the most powerful he's ever felt, the most _satisfied_ – until Seta and his friends arrive and it all comes crashing down. Crumpled on his back, staring up at the swirling red and black sky, Tohru asks them to leave him behind, knowing they won't. Instead, Seta's face appears at the edge of his vision and the kid bends down to haul him up. Tohru leans heavily on him and allows himself a bloodstained grin. He dodged this brat for months, could've done so much longer if he hadn't gotten sloppy.

He inclines his head toward Seta. "Guess you had to figure it out _eventually_."

"Consider yourself lucky," Seta whispers. "I wanted to stop you the day we met."

There's no way, Tohru wants to shout. There's no way he'd ever be so fucking _obvious_ – but Seta's already hauling him away toward the portal, and the real world.

**16\. Hanako Ohtani**

Souji doesn't say anything the whole year.

The packages keep disappearing, so Hanako keeps leaving them in his locker, but either he doesn't realize it's her or he just pretends he doesn't. Maybe he doesn't care who they're from as long as they keep showing up. It's not like it matters; she's seen him hanging around with six or seven different girls, including that weird boyish one who stole the pageant. She's seen him with _Risette_ , which means nobody else in the entire universe stands a chance, least of all Hanako. Souji's never talked to her and he's leaving town next week.

But she doesn't even have a crush on him, not really. Well, okay, maybe she did once, but that blond exchange student he knows is _way_ cuter. Besides, after Souji barged into her room at the inn with his weirdo friends and didn't even have the decency to apologize afterward, Hanako definitely isn't making the packages because she loves him.

She still keeps making them, though. Maybe it's a habit. Maybe it's just a way she can enjoy cooking. Hanako's got a knack for it, and telling anyone would be like painting a target on her forehead. It's stupid - why would anyone trust a skinny cook? - but so are a lot of things, so she deliberately burns everything in Home Economics class and makes a big deal out of it each time.

So maybe _that's_ why she does it. It's a nice, tidy reason, and a lot easier to explain than the strange and sinking feeling the Souji's doing something big, and that he needs whatever help he can get. And if he never acknowledges her, well, that's fine. Hanako doesn't need his encouragement. The inexplicable feeling of rightness – that all this is exactly what they did before – is both disturbing and reassuring enough.

Two days before he leaves Inaba, the Souji Seta Fan Club is out in force: a throng of girls who are devastated by Souji's impending departure. Hanako decides she doesn't really care and stays in her half-empty classroom skimming through one of her fashion magazines, until Souji walks through the door and over to her desk.

"Nice magazine," he says with a nod. The magazine's open to an advert featuring a cat, but Hanako's already heard the rumours.

It's the first time he's ever actually spoken to her. "Thanks."

"No, thank you," he says. "You helped more than you know."

He sounds quiet and serious - and though she isn't sure why, Hanako has that same sensation again, the feeling deep in her bones that Souji's about to do something huge and vital. But she doesn't have anything to give him, not today, so she takes his hand and squeezes it tightly.

"Good luck," she tells him.

He blinks at her for a second, expression startled. It clears a moment later, replaced by a smile that only makes it halfway. "Thanks. I'll need it."

 

**17\. Margaret**

Souji leans forward in the limo's back seat. "You don't seem surprised to see me."

Time means less in the Velvet Limo than in some worlds, but each Wild Card still has their beginnings and endings, and in each case a routine must be followed, as with all the occurrences in-between. This – an occasion on which Master Igor is absent - is an exception. One which Margaret expected.

After all, Wild Cards don't always get it right first time around.

"You understand why," she tells him, allowing for some gentleness. "And you intend to form a bond with me, as you did not before." Souji pales and opens his mouth to speak, but she continues. "There is no fault in such intentions. I know that, on this cycle, you will impress me even more - and I will not be alone."

Souji hesitates. Margaret pictures the right card rotating to the forefront of his mind, the correct Persona aiding him in answering.

"I just want to do better this time," he eventually says, almost casually. "I want to solve the case, and to do that..."

"You require the strength of your bonds."

He nods.

Charisma, courage, intelligence, compassion. They form a dangerous combination. Souji's potential friends are at a disadvantage. "Would you still work so hard to befriend them all if no power were to be gained?"

Again, he pauses. "...I don't know."

She should laud his candor – but he knows that she prefers honesty, so perhaps this is a manipulation in itself. Again, there is no shame in this. Margaret is unsure how many times Souji will be allowed to repeat this journey - a week back here to save his friend Yukiko Amagi, another week to rescue Naoto Shirogane, an entire year after Namatame plunged through the screen – only that in order to reach his journey's true end, he will need all the strength he can muster. Manipulation may be the most potent tool he has.

"You've changed since your previous cycle," she says. "Then you lacked support. This time, you will have no problem extracting from them what you need."

"I'm not going to just – _extract_ from them," he protests, with a shake of his head.

Margaret quirks an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"No. They're my friends," Souji says - finally, with the confidence she expects. "Or they will be, this time."


End file.
